


I don’t care what you think (as long as it’s about me)

by andbless_mybaby



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:12:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andbless_mybaby/pseuds/andbless_mybaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The kissing shit is something that Puck puts up with, even if he never starts it himself. It’s one of the many unspoken rules for these situations. This keeps happening between them, and Rule Numero Uno of the Bro Code says that you don’t talk about it. Not before, not after, and sure as hell not during.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	I don’t care what you think (as long as it’s about me)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my bb [](http://une-fille.livejournal.com/profile)[**une_fille**](http://une-fille.livejournal.com/) as a prize in the [](http://community.livejournal.com/gleefics/profile)[**gleefics**](http://community.livejournal.com/gleefics/) Birthday Contest, with love and apologies for screwing up the first prompt. Thank you for being 150% awesome, lady. GIANT HEARTS. Beta read by my darling [](http://becca-radcgg.livejournal.com/profile)[**becca_radcgg**](http://becca-radcgg.livejournal.com/) . WARNING FOR BOTTOM!PUCK. This takes place around a year after “Journey” in my personal head canon.

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[fic: glee](http://andbless-mybaby.livejournal.com/tag/fic:%20glee), [pairing: finn/puck](http://andbless-mybaby.livejournal.com/tag/pairing:%20finn/puck), [rating: nc-17](http://andbless-mybaby.livejournal.com/tag/rating:%20nc-17)  
  
  
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**Title:** I don’t care what you think (as long as it’s about me)  
**Author:** [](http://andbless-mybaby.livejournal.com/profile)[**andbless_mybaby**](http://andbless-mybaby.livejournal.com/)  
**Pairing:** Finn/Puck (sort of established relationship, only not)  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Spoilers:** AU after “Funk”  
**Summary:** _The kissing shit is something that Puck puts up with, even if he never starts it himself. It’s one of the many unspoken rules for these situations. This keeps happening between them, and Rule Numero Uno of the Bro Code says that you don’t talk about it. Not before, not after, and sure as hell not during._  
**Word Count:** 3,650  
**Author’s Notes:** Written for my bb [](http://une-fille.livejournal.com/profile)[**une_fille**](http://une-fille.livejournal.com/) as a prize in the [](http://community.livejournal.com/gleefics/profile)[**gleefics**](http://community.livejournal.com/gleefics/) Birthday Contest, with love and apologies for screwing up the first prompt. Thank you for being 150% awesome, lady. GIANT HEARTS. Beta read by my darling [](http://becca-radcgg.livejournal.com/profile)[**becca_radcgg**](http://becca-radcgg.livejournal.com/) . WARNING FOR BOTTOM!PUCK. This takes place around a year after “Journey” in my personal head canon.

\---

  
“You don’t like it,” Finn says flatly.

“As if I give a shit.” Laying on the bed, Puck takes a hit off their shared blunt and exhales smoke towards the ceiling. Then he takes another, longer one to emphasize the _not giving a shit_. “For fucking real, man. You want to move in with Kurt, have every day be a big butt buddy party, be my guest.”

“It’s not really my choice.” Finn’s upset, but Puck’s not about to cuddle him or any shit like that. “Our parents--”

“Your mom wouldn’t do it if you asked her not to. You know she wouldn’t.”

“You don’t understand.” Leaning against the wall of his bedroom under the eaves, Finn looks like one of those weirdo perspective pictures with the giant in the corner. Except he’s really that tall. “I’m lucky that Burt gave me a second chance. And it was way nice of him to break up the basement into two rooms. Give me some of that.”

“Whatever.” Puck closes his eyes, and extends the hand holding the spliff. “I notice how you were too ashamed of your homo love nest to tell anyone about it.”

“Bull, dude. I told you about this, like, two months ago.”

(Puck kinda wonders if that’s true. Looking back, Kurt had been wearing a surgical mask and making bitchy noises about sawdust for a few weeks. Huh.)

One of the windows is propped open, letting hot summer sunshine into the room. Puck purses his lip, and shrugs his shirt off. He’s already a million percent over this whole conversation, so he goes looking for a little trouble.

“This is so lame.” He lets out an exaggerated yawn, and leans over to poke around under the bed. “You still got those old Penthouses under here? I’mma jack off. Since we’re obviously going to waste the whole day talking about Kurt.”

Finn’s eyes widen, and his little gasp makes him totally hack on the puff he’d just taken.

“Th-those were my _dad’s_,” he coughs. “You can’t do that on those!”

Puck makes a big production out of popping the buttons on his shorts.

“I’ll keep ‘em clean,” he leers. “You know I love those 80s chicks. All those perms and big bushes…”

He’s actually grabbed the edge of something with his fingers – which is way more likely to be forgotten Spanish homework than Mr. Hudson’s vintage spank bank material – when Finn takes the bait and pretty much throws himself on top of Puck, the joint forgotten on the desk.

“Bitch. That the best you’ve got?” Puck gleefully antagonizes, around a mouthful of Finn’s man-boob. “My mom throws down harder than that. Maybe she’ll get quarterback next year.”

Finn heaves him back on the bed, throwing his legs over Puck’s in a gesture that means dominance. Like a mighty warrior, Puck tries to headbutt him. But he’s used that one before, and Finn dodges it in time.

“Always talking shit,” Finn mutters.

That one makes Puck laugh.

“You love it, asshole.” He’s squirming under Finn’s six feet and three inches of dead weight, trying to find the best way to squirrel out. There’s a part of him that wants to see what Finn is going to whip out next, but mostly he needs to remind Hudson who wears the pants in this friendship. Finn frowns and shifts, pinning Puck’s lower half with his own. Puck lifts his hips experimentally, straining against Finn until he confirms his suspicions.

Liftoff!

“You totally love it.” Finn’s boner rubs against Puck’s zipper, their cocks trapped by heat and cloth and too much friction.

“Fuck off, man.” Finn’s voice sounds rougher instantly, a tone that means sex. He doesn’t budge. (Puck thinks that maybe he actually pissed him off a little.)

Puck plays dirty, though (he always plays dirty, which is why he always wins). It’s about principle at this point. He doesn’t like losing. So he lets himself go limp under Finn’s hands, waits for him to ease off a little bit. Then he wraps his foot around and digs his heel into the back of Finn’s knee just hard enough to make him crumple.

He scrambles on top, now, smirking down at Finn. He’s got him in a super badass clinch that he learned from UFC Unleashed and taught his fight club. It’s like muay thai or karate or some shit like that. There’s no way he’s getting out. Finn’s breathing hard, his face red and his summer freckles popping out everywhere. Puck’s completely got him.

“Who’s your daddy?” he crows. “Say it, dude. _Puck_. Puck’s your daddy.”

Except maybe Finn plays a little dirty, too. Because he leans up and kisses the words right out of Puck’s mouth.

It’s totally Finn, all tongue with no finesse. Puck rolls his eyes a little. When their teeth gnash, he deliberately closes down on Finn’s bottom lip.

“You bit me, dude!” Finn’s looking all anguished, wrist to his mouth.

“You slobber all over girls like that?” Puck’s amused as he hauls Finn to his knees and unbuckles his belt. “Didn’t think Rachel put up with that amateur shit.”

Finn still seems offended, but not enough to stop.

The kissing crap is something that Puck puts up with, even if he never starts it himself. It’s one of the many unspoken rules for these situations. This keeps happening between them, and Rule Numero Uno of the Bro Code says that you don’t talk about it. Not before, not after, and sure as hell not during. Puck wrestles Finn’s pants and boxers down his legs, sits on him like he used to do when they were kids, and sucks on his tongue. (It’s okay, because Finn started it.) Finn takes it. It’s inevitable, like the fact that if they end up alone in someone’s room without parents or soon-to-be-stepbrothers or bratty kid sisters around, they are going to end up naked and rolling around on someone’s bed.

“Shirt,” Puck says pretty much into Finn’s mouth. “Off.”

“You’ve got shorts on,” Finn points out. He’d know, because he’s got his hand inside them, groping for the fly of Puck’s boxers.

“Fuck you, dude. Bottoms on is way cooler than just a shirt.”

Puck’s all about fucking women, and nothing that happens here changes that. He likes pussy: he likes the taste, the smell, the tight-deep-hot-fucking thing. Finn’s a dude, but Finn’s _Finn_, too. It’s a different feeling, but it’s kind of the same. There’s a hand on his cock (a big hand, but there are chicks with man hands too), a mouth sucking against his. It’s sex, and Puck loves sex.

They get naked. Finn balls up his shirt and tosses it, and it knocks over the little trophy he got for _Most Athletic 2010-2011_ at the senior move-up ceremony last month. His aim is normally better, but Puck is fisting his dick, jacking him slowly enough to be really distracting. Finn’s already crazy excited, wetness pooling in the slit. Puck swirls it all around the head with his thumb, eyes narrowing at the practical thoughts of whether the door is locked and whether there’s any chance at all that Carole is going to come home early from wedding dress shopping with her best friend. Finn, of course, doesn’t think about shit like that.

“Do it,” Finn encourages him. His eyes are just black, huge and spacey with lust. He’ll do pretty much anything Puck wants at this point. He spreads his legs. “C’mon.”

And there’s this _moment_, one of those times when Puck has a crazy, deep thought. He’s not really jealous of Kurt, not threatened by Finn’s almost-stepdad and almost-stepbrother and all their money and love and new bedrooms and shit like that. But Finn’s his boy. They’ve been through a lot together. Which is why, when Finn rubs against Puck’s crotch, Puck bites his lip and flops down on the bed. This is normally the part where he'd work that ass. But he has a different idea.

“Naw, man. How ‘bout….” Puck gives Finn a hard yank on top of him, but dude doesn’t get the point. Which makes Puck groan, since he’s apparently going to have to spell it out. “You – you do it.”

“Huh?”

Puck looks at Finn’s crinkled forehead and almost cracks up. If he were a chick or a giant vagina like Kurt, he’d probably find Finn’s confusion adorable right now. But his junk is ready to, like, explode. So he grabs Finn’s hand and guides his fingers towards Puck’s ass.

“Open up, insert cock.”

That word makes Finn blush a little.

“You never, uh.” He’s tripping on his words, and Puck would mock him if this wasn’t some deep shit. “I mean--”

“You’re gonna fuck me, man.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. ‘S gonna be fucking awesome. Get me ready first.”

There’s some Astroglide by the bed, a tube that Puck bought after the first time this happened and they both got rug burn of the dick while messing around. Finn drizzles some lube over his fingers. He’s a little too hasty, and a bunch drips onto the comforter.

His fingers are warm and slippery. And big, God. Puck’s had fingers up his ass before – he dated Santana “sold my soul to the devil for some backflips and a credit card” Lopez, after all – but it didn’t feel like this. Still. He’s not some scared-ass virgin. Puck feels himself stretching. He’s opening up as Finn makes scissors with his fingers and curls in and out of him. A sound escapes from Puck before he can catch it, and Finn doesn’t meet his eyes. It takes a while, like maybe fifteen minutes, but Finn doesn’t even try to jump the gun. He just keeps working on it until Puck starts digging it, clenching around Finn’s three knuckles. Puck tries hard not to fuck Finn’s hand, and pulls the bedside drawer right off the tracks trying to get inside it.

“Suit up, dude.” Gruffly, Puck tosses Finn a condom.

Turns out that Finn needs help, because his fingers are too slippery to open it. He’s yanking at the wrapper with his teeth when Puck grabs it away and tells him that he’s gonna break it. He quickly gets the rubber out, and flicks it at Finn.

“You need me to put it on, too?” he asks.

It was sarcastic, but Finn just looks up, sex-dazed, like that's the best idea he's never thought of.

“Sure,” he says.

Puck’s on the edge of refusing, but it’s not like he wasn’t touching Finn’s dick like ten minutes ago. He works condoms like a pro these days – post Quinn – and it doesn’t take him long to poke up the reservoir and smooth the latex down over Finn. He’s so hard that Puck knows he’s got to be aching, cock heavy and thick against lower belly. Feeling generous, he gives Finn’s dick a squeeze, like he’s letting it know that the good stuff is coming. Puck’s about to roll over on his stomach, but at the last second he lays down flat on his back instead.

“Like that?” Finn confirms.

“It goes in the same either way,” Puck groans. “Come on. Now.”

It's a little weird getting positioned with Finn between his legs. He feels all open and exposed like this, but he doesn't have time to worry about that crap for long. Finn pushes the tip in, and Puck starts to seriously question whether this was a great idea after all. He’s a _man_, he reminds himself, he can take a little pain. But fuck, Finn feels huge, like a basketball player and a goddamn gorilla mated and his huge unit was the result. (One part of Puck wonders if it felt like this the first time he slipped it in Finn’s back door. Or – shit – Santana’s.)

Above him, Finn’s voice turns soft, like he’s talking to a baby or a kitten.

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “You okay? We can stop.”

“’M not a bitch, man.” Distracted for a moment, Puck shifts his hips. It drives him further onto Finn’s dick, and he groans. “Lay off.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Finn’s gotten better at this fucking thing, and Puck pats himself on the back for that. He considers it his very special gift to Rachel for all the shit he’d put her through during freshman and most of sophomore year. For the record, Puck doesn’t beat himself up too much about _technically_ helping Finn cheat on his beloved girlfriend. He and Finn are just screwing around, and anyway. Rachel would totally want to be the cream filling in this Oreo if she knew. (Puck’s been silently planning that scenario in his mind for a long time. Prom night. _Fuck_ yeah.)

Finn’s rocking into him, his hands braced on either side of Puck’s shoulders. His face looks different, like he’s concentrating more. It’s bizarre for Puck, too. It’s like sex but with something missing, the feeling around his dick. It still hurts a bit, but nothing too bad. It feels okay. It’s like there are seconds where he could maybe see how someone could be into this, but then they slip away and it’s kind of awkward and uncomfortable again.

Between them, Puck works a hand in and begins to stroke himself. He’s not going to get off, but he doesn’t quite know what to do. That’s what Finn does when Puck fucks him, so there’s got to be something to it. Finn’s eyes are half-closed, his hipbones rubbing up on Puck’s ass, with Puck’s legs spread wide across the mattress. Finn notices what Puck is doing and makes a little noise, then replaces Puck’s hand with one of his own. Their faces are really close like this, and Finn’s mouth is hanging open. His fingers feel strong and good on Puck’s dick, and if he were a chick Puck would probably kiss him. But that’s not how they roll, so they just kind of breathe on each other as Finn’s fucking him and Puck’s taking it.

He gets so carried away on that thought that he doesn’t notice Finn getting way too close. Those choked, anxious noises are coming from his mouth, and his rhythm is getting all stuttery and hard. He grinds on Puck’s ass and comes, thrusting through it, gasping like he’s being strangled. Puck flops back on the pillow when Finn pulls out. He scrubs his face with his hands, accidentally smearing some sex grease across his cheek. He doesn’t care.

Finn ties off the condom and flicks it somewhere onto the floor, slumping back on his haunches. He looks dizzily at Puck for a long moment, and then lets his eyes trail down Puck’s body to his unsatisfied dick.

“You gonna suck it, or stare at it?” Puck’s voice sounds destroyed, even to him.

“Gonna suck it.” The words sent something tight and hot clenching up Puck’s back, and then down and through the achy-hurt-amazing feeling between his hips. Finn’s eyes flash like he saw it, like he’s some kind of goddamn psychic. “Gonna suck it good.”

Finn’s tongue comes out, licks a streak down Puck’s cock, and it actually hurts to bite back the _please_ that’s rolling around inside his mouth. He doesn’t say it, though, and Finn takes mercy and just sucks him down hard with no teasing.

Finn’s mouth feels like _fire_, hotter than the sun when he slurps down Puck’s cock. His best friend gives a blowjob like he does everything: enthusiastically and just a little clumsily. He has one big hand wrapped around the base, pulling the skin taut under the head and using his thumb to kind of massage the sweet spot between Puck’s balls. His other hand tracks down the inside of Puck’s thigh, making nonsense patterns on the skin. At one point he digs his nails in and Puck groans, which makes Finn do it some more.

Puck’s eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling as it goes in and out of focus. He rocks a little bit, starts to fuck Finn’s mouth. He wouldn’t do this with a chick, but his boy can take it. It takes a fumbling moment for Finn to catch the rhythm, but he takes both hands and slides them under Puck’s ass to grope and lift him. To make him do it harder and faster.

He’s trying to keep his hands to himself, twisting agitatedly at his nipple ring and fisting a hand in the sheets, but Finn’s edging him probably without realizing it. Every time he swipes his tongue over the slit, Puck sees red with that fuck-yeah-coming-now rush, but then Finn backs off. He’d kick him in the head or something if it wasn’t pretty hot. And then he realizes that maybe he’s been underestimating Finn’s skills all along, because he drops his mouth to Puck’s aching hole and fucking _sticks his tongue in there._

Puck can’t help it at that point. He tangles one hand in Finn’s hair, jerking like a fish, making those totally gone _uh-uh-uh-shit_ noises (he can hear himself), and uses the other to guide Finn’s hand back to his cock. It’s like his own hand doesn’t know his body, he’s so lost on the feeling of hot and wet with Finn’s mouth sucking over his ass like a kiss. Finn, that motherfucker, just ignores his direction and grabs Puck’s hip. Puck can’t even cuss him like he deserves. He’s wordless, struck dumb and dangling on the edge of the biggest orgasm he’s ever had in his life. And then Finn brings his mouth back to Puck’s dick, smirking like a badass.

It feels fucking amazing, so fuckholyshit good that Puck’s hips jam up into Finn’s mouth and he forgets Rule Numero Dos of the Bro Code: _warn your homeboy before you bust a nut_. Finn swallows some of his jizz, but some of it misses and smears on the side of his cheek. He licks his shiny lips.

“I’m hard again,” he whines.

Puck’s boneless, still breathing crazy, and he looks over at Finn like he’s fucking lost it. But he’s sitting there looking all sad and shit with his stupid dick aiming for midnight, so Puck just shakes his head a little.

“Go wash your junk, dude. Smells like ass. When you come back, I’ll hook you up.”

Improvement or not, he can totally get Finn off in less than five minutes when he’s trying. He’s timed it.

\---

  
The ceiling fan spins lazily, the cord swaying in the hot air. Puck’s one opened eye tells him that it’s not on high, and that it would be way cooler if someone would get up and pull it. But not him. Fucked-out and lazy, he’s sprawled out ass-naked on top of the blankets. He’s sore, but it’s a good kind… almost like the burn after an awesome workout.

Finn pulls on his boxer shorts, and then flops down heavily on the mattress. He turns his head sideways on one of Puck’s arms, and throws a knee over one of his widespread legs. Puck gives him a halfhearted shove. Finn – huge caveman bitch that he is – doesn’t even budge.

“No cuddling, Finnderella. The hell I look like? A fucking body pillow?”

“Naw, dude.” Finn’s got that retarded post-sex look on his face, half-sleepy and half-proud of himself. “Bed’s just small.”

“True fact,” Puck mumbles into the forest of Finn’s hair. It smells like Pert and fresh sweat, like the locker room after football practice.

“I’m hungry,” Finn announces. Puck lifts his head enough to see that his eyes are closed. “We should, like, go hit Wendy’s or something.”

“Later. I’m tired.”

“Did’joo know that they’ve got a special? Whole bag’a junior bacon cheeseburgers for ten bucks.” His voice is muffled by the side of Puck’s chest.

“Go to sleep, d-bag. We’ll go later.”

Finn doesn’t respond to that, and Puck figures that he’s drifted off. He props his free arm (the one without Finn’s big, stupid head laying on it) under his neck and stares at the yippee-ki-yay cowboys on the faded wallpaper. They’re all starting to blend in on that hazy shore of fucked-out sleep when Finn twitches like he’s woken up to think of something.

“Don’t have to be jealous of Kurt,” he says thickly. “You’re my best friend. Like, always.”

“Lay off the pillow talk, princess,” Puck grumbles. “I’m not jealous. When you get that new bedroom at Casa Hummel, I’mma fuck you against the wall. We’ll see who’s jealous then.”

Finn doesn’t reply. Half because he’s asleep now and snoring a little already, and half because Puck didn’t actually say that last part. (It’s true, though.)

\---

Puck is strangely awake after that.

He eases off the bed, stealthy like a ninja. Then he goes over to the desk and relights the blunt, still ass-naked. In the mirror on the closet, he can see that there’s a hickey on his collarbone and his lips are puffy. Puck can’t help smirking at his hot self. He’s sticky all over with sweat and come, and he majorly needs a shower. But not right now.

Leaning on the open window, he chills a bit, slowly smoking the last of the green. The sun is hot and feels stupid-good, like everything does when you are high. He can’t think of much, but he thinks – way far in the back of his mind – that maybe he shouldn’t be standing where all the old ladies on Finn’s street could totally catch a view of his junk. So he puts out the roach, closes the window, and decides to play some _Super Mario Kart_ on Finn’s Wii. He goes with the old-school Gamecube controller over the wheel (which takes too much fucking coordination for his current state), chooses his man Bowser, and proceeds to lay waste to the Special Cup. Mirror Mode, like a badass.

He does it all very, very quietly.

**end.**

*This story contains a very deliberate homage to [](http://fuzzy-paint.livejournal.com/profile)[**fuzzy_paint**](http://fuzzy-paint.livejournal.com/) . See if you can find it.  



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